And the Candle Went Out
by MerrytheHobbit
Summary: What if the Battle of the Black Gate failed? What if Frodo died at Cirith Ungol and thus delayed the destruction of the Ring?
1. Chapter 1

_And the Candle Went Out_, Chapter 1

A hurried messenger rode up the streets of Minas Tirith. He had urgent news for the Steward. He went first to the Throne-room, where the Steward should usually be found, but the Lord Faramir wasn't there. A near-by guard told him that the Lord Faramir was spending the afternoon with the Lady Eowyn of Rohan and the Hobbit, Meriadoc, in the gardens. The messenger immediately made his way to find the Steward.

He found Faramir, just where the guard had said. The Steward was sitting in the green grass under a small tree, and by him were Eowyn and Merry. They were busy in conversation while eating a delicious lunch.

"My Lord Faramir," the messenger said.

The young Steward turned his head and saw the messenger for the first time. "Yes," Faramir said anxiously, "Do you bring news of the Battle?"

"Yes, my lord, though it is bad news."

"What has happened," said Faramir with a cool voice though a worry was waking in his eyes.

"We lost. Our army has been destroyed. The King is dead. Only me and a few others lived to bring this news."

"Who are those others, sir?" said Lady Eowyn, "Does my brother live?"

"I am sorry my Lady, your brother, the King of Rohan, was lost. Only five of us ordinary soldiers survived, no one else," said the messenger.

"Is my small Cousin…dead… too?" asked Merry through his tears.

"I am afraid so."

A silence fell among the company; a great sorrow was painted on each of their faces. Their fears had come true. Sauron prevailed. The Ring was not yet destroyed. Merry, overcome by sorrow, left the company and slowly went to his room. Eowyn also left.

"What is there to be done now? What can we do against this wave of darkness that is preparing to engulf us?" said Faramir softly.

"You are our Steward, sir. You now are the leader of Gondor. We wait for your command," said the messenger.

Faramir bowed his head in silence for a while, and then looking up said, "What is your name, Soldier?"

"My name is Telmacar, son of Teladan, my lord."

"Tell me, Telmacar, what became of Lord Aragorn? What happened to Mithrandir? Was even the White Wizard destroyed in the end?" asked Faramir.

"The tide of orcs and other hideous creatures swept upon us as a flood upon dry land. First, our army was split in two. I, as well as many other men, were cut off from the King and the White Wizard. I never saw, with my own eyes, their fall. When about only fifty of us men were left, we began retreating, yet forty of us fell before we reached safety. Thus, there were ten of us men together, and we have two horses. The other nine men are at the City gates five of them are wounded," Telmacar reported.

"Have those who are wounded brought to the Houses of Healing where their hurts can be tended to, as for you and the others, prepare for orders. I shall conclude what is to be done, by the morning."

Eowyn sat on her bed in silence, looking out her small window. In all her life, she never felt as alone as she felt now. During all her other troubles in her life Eomer was usually always there for her. Now he was gone. Rohan was without a King.

Faramir went to his quarters. Taking a seat by the fire, he sat in thought, wondering what was to be done. It wouldn't be long before Mordor's army came to finish off the already injured City. There would be no hope in trying to fight off the assault this time. Their only choice would be to leave the White City.

Faramir had lived in Minas Tirith all his life, and to abandon it to the Enemy would be hard. Yet, he had to think of the people of Minas Tirith, his people. But where would they go? Where could they be safe from the black storm of death? Maybe in Rohan? Yet, the Black Tide, in time, will also engulf the Land of the Horselords, and even all of Middle-earth. "Alas! That I should live to see such times as these," thought Faramir. And he bowed his head and wept.

That evening Faramir walked in the garden alone. He stared up into the large sky above him, which even now, was becoming darker than before. The weight of his choice was heavy, and he wasn't sure if he should flee or stand. A small voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Faramir?"

The troubled young steward looked down at the small hobbit staring up at him. One could clearly see he had been crying.

"Yes, Merry?" replied Faramir.

"What is to be done now? The march on the Black Gate has failed, and we don't know what has become of Frodo," said Merry with an anxious look.

"I have been pondering that, and my only conclusion is that the whole City should evacuate to Rohan. But even there we can not be safe for too long," said Faramir, looking once again east as he had done so many times before.

"Do you think we still may have a chance? I mean, we don't know if Frodo and Sam have failed or not. They could still be out there, can't they?" asked Merry worriedly.

"I don't know, Merry. Yet, we must try our best to last as long as we can. For there is only a certain amount of time until Sauron destroys us all."


	2. Chapter 2

And the Candle Went Out, chapter 2

**Author's Note: I am so sorry this has taken so long to update. I shall try harder to post more chapters soon.**

A mounted messager went through the streets of Minas Tirith. The tall horse's hoof beats echoed in the silent City. He had received a message from the Steward that morning. In three days time, Minas Tirith shall be emptied and the people would find a temporary refuge in Rohan. Most of the inhabitants of Minas Tirith had fled the City, and were living in other towns or villages in Gondor. Another messager was sent out to proclaim to them that all the citizens of Gondor were to flee and seek protection in Rohan.

Three days after the messages were proclaimed Faramir stood silently at the top of the Citadel. His tired eyes looked lovingly on the White Tree, which he knew he would never see again. A silent tear fell down his cheek. He had lost mother, brother, and father. Now he was going to loose his home. His country.

How had it come to this? Minas Tirith had stood for years awaiting the King's return. It even stood through the desperate Battle of the Pelennor Fields. Now, Minas Tirith shall become a thing of the past.

Looking up at the dead White Tree of Gondor, he softly whispered, "When I learned of your death, Boromir, I vowed I would protect Minas Tirith to the death. Now I must leave her to her doom. I have failed thee, brother. I am sorry."

A guard disturbed the Steward's thoughts. "We are ready, my lord," said the soldier.

Eowyn grimly led her horse out of the stables. Today the City of Minas Tirith shall be emptied. Soon they will start the journey to Rohan. Rohan had lost two kings, and now the duty to rule fell to the young shield-maiden.

There wasn't much left of the large Rohirrim army that rode to Minas Tirith not too long ago. Only twenty of the Riders of Rohan remained, of whom only two were not recovering from injuries. Those two Riders were the only soldiers of Rohan that returned from the Battle at the Black Gate. The other eight-teen were still recovering from their injuries they received at the Battle of the Pelennor Fields.

The Rohirrim were also bearing the body the King Theoden back to his land. The dead king was to be buried beside his forefathers. "Theoden King will be the last Lord of the Mark to be buried outside of Edoras," thought the Shield-maiden.

Merry stood by the wain that was to bear the body of the late King Theoden. Deep in thought, the hobbit didn't notice the Lady Eowyn approach him.

"Will you ride with me again, Merry," she said.

"If you'll have me, my lady."

"Come, Windfola, shall bear us both again. Though this time we flee, instead of riding to war."

Thus, slowly the defeated peoples left the White City. And as they passed through the Fields of Pelennor, they wept, for those who had fallen and hid their faces in their hands. But Faramir looked towards Rohan, and would not face East. That day, a dark cloud descended over Gondor.

**Author's Note: Sorry this chapter was short. I will try to make the next one longer.**


	3. Chapter 3

_And the Candle Went Out _chapter 3

The procession from Minas Tirith had stopped for the night to rest. After nightfall, everyone overcome with sleep, save Faramir of Gondor. He stood outside his tent. His somber eyes looked up to the full moon partly covered by dark clouds. He noticed few stars in the night sky. His troubled mind was awake wondering if he made the right choice. Was bringing the remnant people of Gondor to Rohan the wise thing to do? And what would he do once he reached Rohan? He knew that if they continued to retreat farther North, Sauron would still pursue them. There would be no escaping his large armies. Yet, if Sauron had regained the Ring, they would know by now. "There is still hope," thought Faramir, "Frodo may still be alive." But for now, Faramir knew he had to keep the people of Gondor safe as long as he could. Sighing, he went into his tent and eventually went to sleep.

As Faramir slept, he dreamed of a battle. A small army of Gondor and Rohan was surrounded by numerous orcs. In the small army of men, he saw the Lord Aragorn and Gandalf. They were desperately fighting the orcs that clearly outnumbered them. Then he saw the dwindling army split into two. One part fought and then retreated, and the other fought on. They fought until there was not but fifty soldiers left with the Lord Aragorn and Gandalf. Then slowly they too retreated. Yet, they did not retreat in the same direction as the other had. The orcs, shouting their horrible war cries, pursued them. "_No escape,"_ thought Faramir, "_There is no escape for them."_ But the dream ended and Faramir fell into an untroubled sleep.

The sun was setting, when the procession from Minas Tirith reached Edoras. It had been two weeks since they had left the White City.

"Edoras at last," said Faramir, "A safe place to sleep for the night, if only for a little while. For no doubt Mordor will pursue us."

Eowyn, who was riding beside the Steward of Gondor replied, "I am afraid Edoras is not a place of great protection and Helm's Deep, our strongest defense, has been weakened by our battle against Saruman."

They rode silently up to Meduseld, and the people of Rohan had only to look upon the slow march to know that the battle went ill.

That evening Faramir sat with in the Golden Hall of Edoras. It was getting late, but he was still debating in his mind what he should do. Should they repair Helm's Deep and go there for defense and a last stand against Sauron? Or should they, with the people of Rohan, continue to flee farther north? Or should they stay at Edoras and try to make a last stand there. By what he had learned, Faramir knew it was very unlikely that Helm's Deep could be repared anytime soon. Also, if he would retreat further north, they would be still pursued by Sauron and his fell servants. But if he was to make a last stand at Edoras, it would be little likely they would win victory. After all the men had fallen the women and children of Gondor and Rohan would be brutally slain by the orcs. Faramir knew his duty was to defend his people to the end. Another thought came to his mind. He could send the women and children North with a few men to protect them. Then he with other men could defend Edoras and buy time for the women and children to escape Sauron's armies.

The next morning Theoden was laid to rest among his forefathers in a mound outside Edoras. Eowyn stood silently before the tomb, her eyes gazing sadly upon the simbelmyne covered mound. The small white flowers glistened in the morning light. A silent tear fell from Eowyn's eyes.

Also standing beside the newly erected tomb was Merry. He had grown found of Theoden during the time he had spent with the kind king. The small hobbit wept for his liege lord and in a soft whisper said, "As a father you were to me, for a little while, farewell." And all that day Rohan wept for its fallen king.


	4. Chapter 4

Meriadoc, the Hobbit, stood outside the doors of Meduseld. The chilly night air blew through the silent city of Edoras. Dark clouds blotted out the stars. Not even the moon could be seen. Sighing softly, the Halfling looked out at the sleeping land. He reached into his pocket for his pipe and drew it out. But in finding that he had no pipeweed and placed it back into his pocket. His heart had been heavy all that day, and it was no lighter now. Theoden King had been buried that morning. Merry wondered what would happen now. What hope was there that they would escape the flood of darkness that now spread from Mordor? He looked out at the dark cloud that spread from the East. One by one, the Fellowship had been taken by that darkness. He was the only one left of the Nine, who set out from Rivendell. Looking up at the night sky, Merry noticed a single star, fighting to shine through a gap in the ominous cloud. The star shone bright, for a moment only, and then was swallowed up by the darkness. Taking his eyes from the heavens, the hobbits slowly went back into the Hall. Yet, the star was still there, though hidden by the shadow.

Faramir paced about in the room, that at one time, belonged to the son of the King of Rohan. The Steward of Gondor could not find sleep this night. Finallly, with a sigh, he sat upon the bed, ornate with carvings of horses. He couldn't sleep. He knew Mordor's armies would be arriving soon and that the women and children must leave Edoras. He, with all the men who were strong enough to bear arms, would fight, maybe to the death. Faramir knew his duty was to defend his people, but he would not leave the women and children without someone to lead them. For that he would send Lady Eowyn, and with her the Hobbit Merry. Rising, he went out his door and walked up to the guard, who he recognised as Telmacar. "Telmacar," he said,"Please, summon the Lady Eowyn, and also Master Meriadoc, the Perian. Tell them to meet me in the throne room."

"Yes, my Lord Steward," answered Telmacar and he immeadiately left.

Faramir slowly made his way to the throne room. The next morning he would order a messenger to bear his command. He will send the women, children, and the men too wounded to fight Northward. And to guide them he would send the Lady Eowyn. That way, if the battle would go ill, at least the people will have someone to lead and protect them. And indeed, the way things looked, Faramir found it easy to guess he might not be able to reunite with Eowyn and the people. But for the battle to come, he would need all men able to bear arms.

Being so caught in these thoughts, Faramir didn't notice Eowyn's approach nor Merry's silent hobbit feet plodding behind her. "You sent for us?" said the Lady of Rohan, but it was naught but a whisper.

"Yes," said Faramir,"I have desided that the people should stay here no longer, but head northwards. But not all will go that way. I with what army we have left, shall stay here and defend Edoras. I do not wish to obtain victory, but at least to win some time for the women and children to escape."

"And I will stay and fight with you, by your leave," said the Lady Eowyn

"And I would too,"said the Hobbit.

"I don't doubt your courage," said Faramir, "But I need someone to lead and guide the people. Will you do that, my Lady?"

"That is how it has always been for me," said Eowyn,"to stay with the women and children, while the men go to battle and death. I desire not to flee from this Shadow from which there is no hope of escape."

"Indeed, the Shadow will persure us wherever we go. But yet there may be hope still. What of the Elves? Maybe there is hope there? Merry, your cousin Frodo told me that during your travels you met and stayed with the Fair Folk. Do you think they may help us?" said Faramir looking down at the hobbit with a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

A few moments passed before the hobbit responded. "Aye, I did stay for at time among the Elves. But even during that time they were already beginning to leave Middle-Earth, crossing the sea into the far West. I truly don't know what has become of them since I left their lands."

"But their lands my be a place of a safe refuge," said Faramir.

"Do you think we should go to the Elves then?" asked Eowyn.

"Yes, I do think that may be a good choice of refuge. Merry, I know Rivendell lies to the North, west of the Misty Mountains. But what of Lothlorien, the place of which your cousin mentioned to me? Do you know where that lies?"

"I do, somewhat, sir," said the Hobbit, "Well at least I have a good idea where it lies. My companions and I left that land by boat, going along the Anduin River. I suppose if one were to follow the River northwards one could perhaps run across it."

"Would you be willing to guide the people to that land, for it seems the only safe place to go now," said Faramir.

"Yes, I would," said Merry in a slow and quiet voice.

"Very well, I will send word that the women, children, and those men who are unable to bear arms are to leave Edoras. You shall be leaving tomarrow at noon," said Faramir

"But why must I go? Are not you in need of those who can bear arms for the battle to come? I may be a woman, but I can fight!" said the Lady Eowyn.

"Indeed, I do not doubt that. But, my Lady, I am afraid from this battle there will be no returning. It will be a fight to the death," said Faramir softly.

"But will not death find us all under the dark shadow of Mordor?" said Eowyn

"Yes, but I would be at peace to know someone as valient and strong as you, Eowyn, was governing the people," said Faramir.

Silence filled the Hall. Finally Eowyn's strong voice broke it saying,"As you wish, my Lord." And she left and went to her own room.

Looking down to Merry Faramir said, "You may go to your rest, Master Meriadoc. You shall have need of it for your journey."

"Thank-you. But you try to rest also, you may need it more than I do," said the Hobbit and he left.


	5. Chapter 5

And the Candle Went Out chapter 5

A lit candle sat upon a old, wooden table. It was totally dark, save for the light coming from the small candle. A cold breeze blew though the room. The little flame shuttered, for a moment only, and continued to glow brightly. But even though the darkness grew, the candle was not overcome. Another cold breeze came, more strong than the first. The flame was reduced to a small flicker by this, but still it lived on. Then a storm, cold and harsh came, blowing angry from the East. The flame diminished to a small spark, and even that was put out by the prevailing wind.

* * *

In the chilly morning a procession of people left Edoras. The morning was dark and none spoke. With sorrowful faces women, children, and the few men looked ahead at their path. No one looked back, save one. The Lady Eowyn looked back upon the place which she called home for many years, knowing that there was little hope of Edoras' survival. The Golden Hall that had stood for so long as a home for the kings of Rohan would soon be burnt down. Yet a small army stayed behind with the Steward, Faramir. He and his men would defend Edoras while the women and children escaped.

Eowyn did not want to leave. She thought it foolish to flee from inevitable death. She envied those who stayed behind, at least they had a chance to die a noble death. They would stand and fight, not be hunted down like a rabbit by a dog. Her eyes searched the familiar towers of Edoras. And standing upon one of those towers was Faramir, who was silently watching the reminent group leave.

Faramir had been good and kind to Eowyn ever since she had awakened in the Houses of Healing in Minas Tirith. He would visit her often and speak to her. He was a gentle and kind man, yet strong. Eowyn had heard how Faramir had lost both of his parents and his brother and she marvelled at this wise man who had befriended her. Part of her heart desired to turn back to Edoras. Sighing, Eowyn turned her heard and looked at the path before her. She feared she had looked the last upon that young Steward of Gondor.

Eowyn looked down at Merry who was riding a pony beside her. He was silent with a thoughtful, yet sad expression on his face. He gazed at the distance ahead of him and sighed.

"Do you feel doubtful we will find the Elven Wood?" Eowyn said softly.

"I don't know, Lady Eowyn. It is a hidden land, as all Elven places. Yet still there is a chance. It is just, well...I wonder if there is still beauty in that place. The Darkness reaches out further each day. And maybe not even Lothlorien could hold it back." After saying thus, he turned back and looked upon Edoras, which was a small shape standing upon the hill. "What do you believe, Milady? Do you think the Darkness shall prevail?"

"I do not know of such things," she said softly, "But as long as there is an empty saddle and a spear in my hand and sword at my side, I shall be content. Yet the horizon looks dark. All I wish is to die fighting, not hunted down like the stag. And you, what do you believe?"

"I not sure, Lady Eowyn. But I believe there is still some hope. I mean, well, Sauron hasn't conquered yet."

"But I fear he soon will"

At that they fell silent, and continued on as the dark clouds slowly began to smuther the sun. They continued on Northward heading towards the Anduin River, with the procession of women and children following. From the South-East a dark cloud crawled, like a snake, seeking light and blotting it out.

Faramir watched as the procession of women and children left Edoras. His eyes seached toward the front looking for the fair Lady that was leading them. Since he had first saw her he pitied her. While they were still in Minas Tirith he tried to make the forlorn Shieldmaiden happy. And the more he talked to her, the more he found that his pity grew to love. And as the slow group disappeared from sight Faramir's heart wept for he knew he had seen his last of Eowyn of Rohan. He stared out towards the now empty plains of Rohan. He hoped with all his heart that Eowyn and the women and children she lead would find safety and freedom. He hoped they could escape Sauron and no longer be dogged by the sorrow and pain that afflicted them. He hoped deep down in his heard that his sacrifice and the sacrifice of the men would not be in vain. Yet the ever deepening darkness that crawled from the East reminded him that there would be no escape if Sauron himself is not destroyed. And that he knew was an expired hope, for no doubt Frodo and his loyal companion's quest had failed. Sauron would slowly strangle all hope and life from Middle-earth and it would fall under his dark and evil rule, forever.

A living voice awoke Faramir from his dark thoughts. "What are your orders, Lord Faramir," said a soldier of Gondor.

Faramir turned and look upon the man. It was Telmacar, the very soldier who had brought the tidings of the defeat at the Black Gate. "Tell the men to arm themselves and strengthen the walls with what means we have. Tonight I fear we may face battle," said Faramir quietly.

"Yes, My Lord," Telmacar replied and left. He walked slowly but steadly towards the crowd of silent men who stood gathered within the walls of Edoras.

Faramir looked once more upon the plains of Rohan and then East. And looking upon the black cloud that crawled towards him he said, "You may triumph tonight. You may claim Rohan and all of Middle-earth. But you may not claim the free people of Middle-earth. We shall stand against you, even to our very last breath."


	6. Chapter 6

_And the Candle Went Out _ chapter 6

The sun set into the West. And the men of Rohan and Gondor stood at their stations. A cold wind blew from the North, caressing the banners of Minas Tirith and Edoras in a final embrace. Men stood with stern faces, gazing South towards the East, towards the black shadow that was about to engulf them.

Faramir stood in his room looking up at the window. It faced East and he could see the deep blackness draw even nearer to Edoras. Slowly, he reached for his breastplate. Faramir ran his hand along the emblem of the White Tree on the cold metal. This battle would be the end of the Stewards of Gondor. The line of Gondor's kings had already been destroyed. Now it was time for the line of Stewards to follow. Gondor had fallen. Maybe some of her people would survive a little longer. Yet the truth was evident. Gondor had fallen. After arming himself, Faramir went to prepare his men. He would fight in battle one last time.

Telmacar stood on one of the towers that were a part of the wall of Edoras. He stood there looking Eastward with a grim face and stern grey eyes. A young knight of Rohan who stood next to him spoke. "You believe we can not win this fight?" the knight of Rohan said.

"How could we? We are small in number. Edoras isn't even to be called a fortress. Her walls are too weak to hold back an attacking enemy. Sauron's arm reaches out to destroy us and we can not escape. No we can not win. Not this time," replied Telmacar.

"I never thought it would end this way. I knew there was little chance we could win victory over Sauron but I never thought I would live to see the last stand. The last fight against Sauron."

"I don't know if it will be the last. But it will be the last for Gondor at any rate," said Telmacar.

"Are you afraid to die?" asked the young knight of Rohan quietly.

"A soldier of Gondor is never afraid to die for his country, his people, his leader. No, we soldiers of Gondor live for what we love and die for it willingly when called to do so," replied Telmacar, "What is your name? You seem quite young."

"I am nineteen, sir. I became a knight of Rohan a year ago. My name is Falding."

"Do all of the men of Rohan become knights at such a young age. We soldiers of Gondor are not received into the service of Gondor until we have been trained for two years," said Telmacar.

"No, I entered when my adoptive father died," said Falding.

"Your adoptive father? So you have lost more than one?"

"I lost my real father when I was but a young child. My adoptive father said he found me in an abandoned hut on the outskirts of Rohan. The hut was often used by bandits and thieves. My adoptive father believed me to be stolen since I was found with a blanket embroidered with the Tree of Gondor," explained Falding. "Good sir, do you by chance, know of any man in Gondor who had lost his son years ago to robbers?"

"Yes, I do. I lost my son," said Telmacar slow, soft voice, "I returned to my home after being on guard duty late one night. I found my house torn apart. My valuables stolen. My wife was stabbed to death and my only son who was two years old gone." A small tear fell down Telmacar's cheek. "Do you still have that blanket?"

"Yes, I do. I keep it tied to my belt, hoping it will bring me home some day," said Falding as he untied a black cloth from his belt and gave it to Telmacar.

Telmacar's hands began to tremble as he fingered the old, worn cloth that was once a child's blanket. "Yes, yes this is Nereth's work," he said in a trembling voice. "This can only mean..you are..my son!" And with that they embraced.

"Oh, Father, how I longed, and hoped I would find you," said Falding, "I feared I would die before I did so. But now you are here."

"Oh, my son, I had given up hope of ever seeing you again," said Telmacar, "And now you are here with me, here at the end."

"One thing I had always wondered, Father. What is my real name. The name Falding was given to me by my adoptive father."

"Your Mother and I gave you the name Telmadir."

"The Enemy! He comes! His army approaches! To your posts!" cried out a soldier.

Telmacar and his son looked out and saw the black mass of Sauron's army coming down a hill in the south-east and swarming towards the walls of Edoras.

Night had come. A black blanket covered the sky of Edoras. There was no moon. Not even a star could be seen. There was pure silence. Not a sound could be heard. The wind had died down and the banners of Rohan and Gondor hung limp.

Suddenly a blast of an orc horn shattered the deadly silence. Its deep call echoed over the plains. A sea of orcs surrounded the small island of Edoras. A storm was brewing. Now it had come. And it would thrash the island until there is nothing left. It would be unforgiving. The waves shall crash upon the walls of Edoras till they fall down. The rushing dark water shall flood the streets and drown all life within its reach.

In answer to the orc horn's call a rain of arrows cascaded down upon the numerous enemy. Knocking down many yet a thousand rose to take their place. The rain of arrows continued to pelt the orcs and a surge of arrows showered upon the walls of Edoras. A large batter-ram came to beat upon the doors. And ladders were brought to scale the walls of the besieged fortress.

Thud! The battering-ram knocked upon the city's gates. Men stood holding the doors shut to their foes. Thud! Wood of the door began to crack under the blow. Thud! The doors were nearly defeated. The men could not hold the gate much longer. The Steward of Gondor called his men to retreat to Meduseld itself. The Golden Hall of the King of Rohan. But there was no King of Rohan now. He had passed away. The last leader of Rohan was even now slinking away from the darkness. Yet, she would not go far. The surge of darkness would find her. The Golden Hall would be the place of the last stand. Men ran towards its open doors, if only to escape the darkness outside but a little longer. Thud. The gate of Edoras was thrown open.

A father and son, fought through the stream of orcs to get to the Golden Hall. The Steward of Gondor stood outside the doors beckoning the remaining men to enter as the swarm of orcs ascended the hill of Edoras. Telmacar and his son were the last to climb the stairs leading to Meduseld. And in the moment as they neared the doors an orc threw a short spear at the Steward Faramir. Yet, a man jumped in its path and received it instead. A knight of Gondor took his wounded comrade with him inside the doors as Faramir shut them.

"Oh, Telmadir! My son! My son!," cried Telmacar. He held his son close to him. His son was still alive, yet with his experience as a soldier Telmacar knew his recently found son would soon leave him.

"My Father," said Telmadir in a labored breath, "Oh, my Father. I have just found you and yet I am afraid I must leave you now. I hope I haven't acted wrongly."

"No, my Son. You fought bravely. You saved the Lord Faramir."

"And for that I am indebted to you," said the Steward Faramir bending down to the wounded young knight. "You fought well and won your honor. I am only sorry that there will be none to tell of your great deeds. But be at peace, son of Telmacar. Sauron has not defeated you." And with that the Steward left them to help the men hold the door assaulted by the orcs.

"Farewell, my Father. I am afraid I must leave you now. But please promise me. Fight on. Even after I am dead. Fight against Sauron to your last breath and don't let despair or sorrow weaken you."

"I promise I shall fight for you my son," said Telmacar with tears glistening upon his face.

"Fight not for me Father. But for Gondor and Rohan. For the freedom of Middle-earth. Fight for what is pure and true and good," said Telmadir softly.

"I shall my son. I shall," replied Telmacar almost weeping.

"Farewell,..my Father. I..love you...Farewell."

"My son! I love you as much as any father can. Farewell, my son!" cried Telmacar and embraced his son. He sat there until his son's uneasy breathes became still and his skin became pale and cold.

It was only the thud of the battering-ram upon the doors that woke Telmacar from his sorrow. He stood up and clasped his sword in hand. "I will keep my promise to you my son," he said in a whisper looking upon his son's peaceful face. And as he looked up the doors fell open and a swarm of orcs ran in. With a loud cry of "Gondor" he lept upon the foul creatures and slew them as they entered in, blocking the doorway with their hideous bodies.

Brave men fell one by one, both of Rohan and Gondor. Soon naught but ten men were left with Lord Faramir, one of which was Telmacar. Suddenly the last men found themselves trapped not only by orcs but fire as well. Orcs had set fire to the Hall and flames fed hungerly on wood and bodies alike. Faramir looked up about him. Destruction was everywhere. This was to be his end. "I am sorry, Father. I have failed thee. I am sorry Boromir I have failed thee too. Gondor has fallen. I could not save her," he thought. He heard a sharp whistle and then a sharp pain in his chest. "It is now my end. I am to be slain," he thought. Suddenly strong arms grasped him and he felt himself pulled away out a window. He saw the roof of Meduseld collapse and flames rise up hungerly to finish what was left of the once proud hall. As he looked around himself he found he was brought to a peasant's shack, not far from the burning hall. Telmacar sat beside him breathing heavily and weeping.

"What now, my Lord. What are your orders for your last soldier?" Telmacar asked through his tears.

"Telmacar. I am wounded. I shall not last long. I want you to go to the Lady Eowyn and tell her what befell the last stand. Help her if you can. For I can no longer do so. But I order you to do what your son had asked of you. Fight. Fight always for what is right. Do not give up. I do not want you to throw away your life here. For it is not here that your doom shall take you," said Faramir with a labored voice, "Please go to the Lady Eowyn. Bring her my love. For I can no longer do so."

"Yes, my Lord. I shall surely do so," replied Telmacar.

"Thank-you my good soldier. You make Gondor proud. I just hope I haven't harmed Gondor in anyway."

"No, my Lord. You make Gondor proud. You are the greatest Steward I have ever served. I will fulfill your last command to me even if death stands in my way," said Telmacar.

"Thank-you, my good Telmacar. Send Eowyn my love. If only it didn't end this way," said Faramir softly and he fell quiet. His breathing stilled and he grew cold. The last Steward of Gondor perished. And in the shroud of darkness the last soldier of Gondor left the burning ruins of Edoras.


	7. Chapter 7

Silence. The once green fields surrounding Edoras were now brown and burnt while a deadly quiet filled the air. The only thing that remained of the once strong city of Rohan was charred wood still smoking. The stench of burnt flesh lingered in the once fresh air.

There was nothing but silence, pure silence. There was no sound of bird, nor whisper of wind. It seemed the quiet, still, cold silence of death had taken hold of the land of Rohan. And after taking both the once fair city of Minas Tirith and the once proud Edoras, the Shadow of Mordor reached out further. It reached out to hate, to destroy, to kill, to burn. It would hunt down the rest of the Free People of Middle-Earth until it had found and killed all who opposed him. And he was not only seeking to destroy their armies but the women and children as well.

The silence laid heavily on the ruins of Edoras. It was the silence of death. It was the silence of an impending doom that would soon fall upon all of Middle-earth. The once living Edoras was now a pile of smoking ruins charred with ashes. "Soon all of Middle-earth will look like this," the black cloud that hung over the silent land seemed to say.

All was a mixture of grey, brown, and black. Yet, among the still bodies covered in ashes and the burnt wood was a small streak of green. There among the wreckage of war and the silent grief of death was the banner of Rohan. Its white horse was smeared in the ashes of death and its green field was moistened with blood of the brave men who fought, and died, to keep it flying.

Telmacar hastily made his way over the fields of Rohan and when the pale light of dawn shed a dim light on his surroundings, he turned around. He looked back upon the pillar of smoke and ash that rose from the once proud Edoras. "In this dark night, Rohan has fallen," he thought, "And fallen ,too, is Gondor's finest Steward. Alas! It is me who is left to fulfill his last command. I, just one soldier of Gondor, who could not even save his own son. Alas! It is my fate to live to see the fall of all good in Middle-earth. What have I done to deserve this fate!" Overcome with grief he fell to his knees and wept.

Slowly a wind picked up from the West and blew across the grey, sad, empty fields. Its formless fingers caressed Telmacar's tear-stained cheek. "Now," said Telmacar, "I must do my duty. There is nothing I can do about my fate. I must do what I must. I shall keep my promises to the day I die." He then stood up and continued along the path, to bring his unhappy message to the fleeing refugees.

The group of woman and children had come to a stop to rest for the night. It was the end of their third day since leaving Edoras. The night's sky was black and not a star could be seen in the inky darkness above them.

Eowyn sat by the small campfire, looking into its glowing flames. Her thoughts were on her home she had left just three days ago and the Captain and Steward who had remained there. She wondered if she had done right. She wondered if she was wrong in doing what Faramir had asked her. "I should have stayed at Edoras," she whispered to herself, "Stood for one last time with the brave Riders. Now, I have abandoned Rohan. I am bringing my people to an uncertain fate. For no doubt, Mordor shall find us and corner us and thus our doom come as a swift storm that leaves nothing standing."

She looked up. A little way from her sat the hobbit, Meriadoc. He sat upon a fallen log and was halfheartedly chewing a piece of bread. He had been silent of late, Eowyn noticed. "Why not," Eowyn thought, "Death has taken his kinsmen and friends, as it has all of us."

"The black cloud draws closer north," the hobbit said, noticing Eowyn gaze.

"It does," she responded, her solemn eyes turning once again to the dancing flames of the fire.

"It is very silent tonight," he said looking at the half-eaten piece of bread.

"It is," Eowyn said quietly.

"You are thinking of Faramir," said the hobbit, raising his gaze from the bread to look at her. "You miss him."

"Yes, you are correct, my friend. I am thinking of him. Yet, I fear I shall never see him again in this world. There were things I wish I could of told him before leaving," said Eowyn with sorrow showing in her eyes.

The hobbit bowed his small head and sighed. "He did what he believed to be right. He wanted to give the women and children a chance to flee from the approaching doom. In staying in Edoras, he could encourage the soldiers before the end," said Merry, "He is a noble man, like his brother yet wise." And with that he fell silent, staring off into the cold darkness that surrounded that camp. "I guess I will go to my rest now," he said standing up, "you should too, My Lady. We shall be traveling again in the morning."

"Yes, I suppose I will," she responded but it was naught but a whisper.

A grey dawn came to the darkness-shrouded land. The place looked dreary in the dim light. There was no sign of the sun, for it seemed as if it had given up shining altogether. Now all lay under a sky of a greyish haze. It was early, yet Telmacar continued to make his way over the plains. He had traveled all that night but he refused to rest until he completed his mission. He had found their trail and had been following it all that night. He had recently found one of their meager fires, still freshly put out. He supposed he wasn't too far from them. At least from the signs of the encampment meant the small group was still alive.

"But they shall not last for long. Not with the army of Mordor at their heels.," he thought with bowed head, "But the fight shall not last long, for all of our armies are gone."

"Yet fight I shall, just as the Lord Faramir asked of me," he said rising his head up once more. And looking forward as he reached the top of the hill he saw the small group of survivors slowly making their way northward.

"At last!" thought Telmacar as he descended to them.

As he came within calling distance he cried out, "Lady Eowyn! Lady Eowyn! I bring you tidings from the battle!"

The line halted and Eowyn came riding from the front towards him and behind her came the Hobbit, Meriadoc, seated upon a grey pony.

"Tell me what tidings you bear, Soldier of Gondor. Yet I fear I know them already," she said, her grey eyes showing many nights of worry and sorrow.

"My Lady, Edoras has fallen, burnt to the ground. The armies of Gondor and Rohan have fallen. And...and the Steward of Gondor, Lord Faramir, has been slain."

"These are indeed grave tidings, and I fear such a doom awaits us as well," Eowyn said stiffly, and a shadow fell upon her grey eyes, "Does Mordor's army follow still?"

"Yes, my Lady."

"Very well then. We continue on then. Come to me when we make camp; I wish to talk to you more," Eowyn said turning her horse back towards the front of the procession.

"I shall, my Lady," Telmacar answered. And the procession continued on, slowly, slowly fleeing what seemed inevitable. And the darkness behind followed them, like a ravenous wolf it followed waiting for its chance to devour them.

That night they rested under the branches of a small forest. With the glow coming from the small fire Telmacar could see those who kept watch for the night, moving like shadows in the darkness. Telmacar walked slowly through to camp. All about him women, children, and a few men sat or slept in the dim light from a few scattered small fires. Some of the people were from Rohan, others were from Gondor. Some wore the simple clothes of peasants while there were a few with well-worn garments that someone of the middle class would wear. Yet all wore upon their faces fear and sorrow. There was no one among them who hadn't suffered the loss of a loved one. As Telmacar walked he heard little save the sound of quick and quiet whispers, the crackle of the fires, and the horses. Telmacar's heart wept for these people. "There is no hope for them," he thought, "We shall be overcome and Sauron shall show no mercy, murdering the innocent and the helpless. If only they can be saved" He sighed and entered into Eowyn's tent.

The Lady Eowyn was finishing her meager bowl of soup and was speaking softly with the small hobbit. Telmacar entered and bowed his head towards her. "I have come as you have asked, my Lady," he said. She looked up and nodded. Turning to her small companion she said, "I need no more tonight, Merry. You may take your leave."

"Yes, my Lady," he said with a small bow and left.

Turning to Telmacar Eowyn motioned for him to come and sit beside her. Once he had done so she said, "Soldier of Gondor, tell me, where you there when the Steward Faramir fell?"

"Yes, my Lady, I was. It was he who bade me to bring the news of our defeat to you."

"You were the only survivor then?"

"Yes, my Lady,"Telmacar replied, "the burning Hall of Edoras collapsed in the end upon what was left of us. I alone was able to carry the wounded Steward out before the flames consumed the place."

"So Minas Tirith is taken and Edoras is reduced to ashes," Eowyn said in almost a whisper, then raising her voice said, "Did the Steward give you any other message?"

"Yes, my Lady, he did. He said to send you his love"

Eowyn was silent for a moment, her eyes closed. Then turning to Telmacar said, "Thank-you, good soldier. You may take your leave."

"Yes, my Lady," he said standing and with a bow left. And as he left the tent he heard the sound of quiet weeping.


	8. Chapter 8

_And the Candle Went Out _chapter 8

Merry silently wandered through the camp. He couldn't sleep, as a matter of fact he hadn't been able to have a good night's sleep in a long time. His thoughts had been dark and his heart heavy, and today's news was just another harsh blow. Even though the defeat at Edoras had been expected, the death of the Steward saddened everyone. His tired feet brought him to where the horses were tied up for the night. He approached his small grey pony, Stybba, and brought a piece of half-finished bread-crust and fed it to him. "A chilly night tonight, boy," he said as he rubbed the creature's neck, "It is Spring, or would be Spring back in the Shire. Yet, the cold of winter seems to linger. I wonder if Spring shall ever come again?" The pony gently nuzzled the hobbit's pocket, hoping to find more treats. Smiling, Merry rubbed the pony's fuzzy grey ears, "Sorry, boy," he said, "I don't have anymore. There is not much food left anymore. We have to be careful with the supplies, until we reach the Elves. If we ever reach them." He looked up at the dark sky, one star shone faintly in the far North. "Yet, the Elves probably have left already. Going across the Sea, into the far West, to escape this cold, black darkness." He grew silent and pulled his cloak closer to him to block out the cold night air. A lone tear fell from his tired eyes, "I miss them. Pippin, Frodo, Sam, the rest of the Fellowship. They have all left me behind." He looked into his pony's sad eyes and rubbed its ears gently, "You rest, Stybba. We have another long day ahead of us tomorrow."

The hobbit silently and softly made his way to his tent. He was fortunate to have somewhat shelter from the night's cold air. There were only a few tents with the remainder group, and the Lady Eowyn had saved a tent for her hobbit esquire. As he walked he passed old women huddling near a fire to keep warm. He saw mothers gently wrapping their small children in their own cloaks, whispering lullabies. As he neared his tent, he saw a pair of young children sitting alone under a tree. The elder of the two was a boy, who wrapped his arms protectively around his younger sister. "The boy can't be older than eight years, and the girl even younger," the hobbit thought.

"Adoran, I'm cold," said the little girl softly.

"I know, Lillan. Me too," her brother replied.

"I miss Papa. When is he coming back?"

"I don't know," Adoran replied.

"Are you cold," said a kind voice. Adoran and Lillan looked up to see someone their height with a concerned face. Adoran recognized it to be the Lady Eowyn's esquire.

"Yes, sir. But we'll be alright. I gave my blanket to my sister. I'm strong, my dad is a soldier of Gondor," said Adoran proudly.

"It is cold out tonight. Where is your father?" Merry asked, almost afraid of the answer.

"He stayed in Edoras, sir, to fight," replied the boy.

"And your mother?"

"She died when Lillan was just a baby, "said the boy trying to look braver than he felt.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I have lost someone very dear to me also," said Merry placing his hand upon the boy's shoulder. "Why don't you come and sleep in my tent tonight, it is cold." He motioned to the tent which stood not too far away. "There is plenty of room."

"Thank-you, sir. Thank-you very much," said the boy standing up and then turned to help his sister up from the cold ground.

Inside the tent Adoran watched as his sister settled down upon the floor of tent. Assured that his sister was comfortable he took his place beside her. Merry watched them; how much they reminded him of himself and his cousins. They boy protectively put his arm over his sister, wishing to shield her from any harm. "They shouldn't have to endure this," Merry thought wrapped in his own blanket, "They should be able to have a happy, carefree childhood, with loving parents and a safe home. What shall become of them in this so dark a storm?" And he drifted into a dreamless sleep.

The next three days continued as the previous had been. Marching, ever walking, struggling away from the evil that pursued and hunted them. As a wounded stag they fled the deadly teeth of the hounds.

Sauron sent out his armies, reaching to end the small retreating group. But he also sent out smaller armies along the mountains, for he hadn't forgotten the Battle of the Black Gate. He had won victory there, yes, but there were some that had escaped death. One small group retreated back to Minas Tirith, but another had retreated toward the mountains. And Sauron was troubled. The Heir to the Throne of Gondor was not found among the dead, and neither was the White Wizard. They had escaped death once, and Sauron was determined not to let it happen again.

Telmacar sat in silence before a campfire. His eyes watched the glow of the flames and his mind brought back the terrible images of the battle at Edoras. "Why am I alive, and so many are not?" he thought, "I have lost so much. I can no longer find joy in life, and shall never find it again."

"Telmacar! My friend! So good to find you alive again". The voice stirred Telmacar from his thoughts and he turned to see his old friend.

"Maglor! It is good to see you my friend," Telmacar replied. His friend sat beside him.

"So what of the battle, Telmacar?" I heard it went ill." Telmacar remained silent.

"I would have fought beside you if it weren't for my arm," continued Maglor motioning toward his right arm that was in a sling.

They sat in silence for a while. Then Telmacar spoke, "Why, why do we flee Maglor? The Enemy is slowly destroying us. Wouldn't it be better to embrace our doom now rather to have it overtake us one by one?"

"I don't know too much about these things, my friend, but what I do know is there is always hope," replied Maglor, "Who knows, maybe it is our fate to be slowly defeated. All I know is that I am not going down easy. Sauron will pay for taking Minas Tirith."

"Aye, he will. He will pay for all his dark hand has taken. Alas, dear Maglor, I have lost more than just the Battle of Edoras," Telmacar cried. A solitary tear fell down his face.

"What is it my friend?"

"Once again I have lost my son."

"But Telmacar", Maglor said, "your son was lost many years ago."

"Aye, he was lost. Then I found him again. There in Edoras I found him. He was alive for all those years I thought him dead. Then I lost him again, Maglor. And this time, I truly lost him." Telmacar bowed his head and wiped the tears from his eyes. "I am sorry, dear Maglor, for letting my troubles upon you. No, Sauron has taken too much from me. Too much."


End file.
